


When You Come Back To Me

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Enjolras you goon, Fluff, M/M, Obtusejolras, Piningjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:27:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or Enjolras can pontmercy with the best of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Come Back To Me

_"Attention passengers, we regret to announce that due to a maintenance issue on the runway, flight 3001, LAX to JFK, has been delayed.  We expect to be boarding within the hour, in the meantime, attendants are coming around the terminal with vouchers towards your next flight with any of our affiliated airlines.  As always we thank you for your patience and choosing U.S. Air, and hope to have you on your way shortly."_

Behind his newspaper, Enjolras' face schooled itself into abject despondency, too tired even to be upset over this latest delay.  First it had been a mix up with the plane that had left him sitting in a terminal for two and a half hours, then something having to do with the pilot, and now this.  He had been up since three only to be trapped in commuter hell, though he really shouldn't have expected any less from L.A.

He hated L.A. - hated the weather, hated the sprawl, hated the coffee.  The coffee especially.  The first thing he was doing once he was home was getting a decent cup of coffee.  He looked at the cup in his hand resentfully, his third that morning, just as acidic and tasteless as the two that preceded it, downed out of necessity more than anything else.

He wanted to be home, rested and curled up in his living room with a book and Grantaire, wearing a hoodie instead of a pressed shirt and glasses instead of contacts, drinking honest-to-god _coffee_ and not this mucky brown crap in a to-go cup.

Grantaire made good coffee.  An undeniable perk (aside from the obvious) to their - ahem - _arrangement_ was the coffee and now, four days away from home and stuck forever in LAX, Enjolras missed it more than he could explain.

He could tell, objectively, that he was being irrational but couldn't decide whether knowing that or still being on the wrong side of the continent when he _should_ be coasting over Ohio at 30,000 feet frustrated him more.

Shaking the feeling away he pulled out his phone, thumbing through his contacts.  He wanted to text Combeferre first and let him know there was no way he'd make it home in time for the meeting at the Corinthe but instead he somehow ended up tapping out a quick message to Grantaire, fidgeting while he waited for a reply.

_**From: R [sent 9:38 am]: Was I supposed to meet** **you at the airport?** _

Enjolras recoiled a little at the response, not fully understanding why or what about it bothered him, and deliberately took his time getting back to him.

 **To: R [sent 9:40 am]:** **No, just a heads up.  
**

He bit his lip while he waited, jostled his foot, tapped his finger against his phone case, almost jumping when it buzzed back to life.

 **From: R [sent 9:41 am]: Just checking, worried I'd forgot.  
** **From: R [sent 9:41 am]: Did you want me to pick you up?**  


The text messages came one on the heels of the other and put that obnoxious, panicky feeling to rest.  He knew that Grantaire probably hadn't caught onto his snippyness but still he felt the guilt creeping in.

**To: R [sent 9:41 am]: No, I don't know when we're landing yet.**

Almost instantaneously he added:

**To: R [sent 9:42 am]: But can I come by later?**

The wait for Grantaire's reply this time was much longer and with each passing minute Enjolras began to worry - maybe Grantaire had caught onto his tone after all (he was always so good at seeing through Enjolras), or maybe he just didn't want to see him tonight, maybe he had decided that he didn't want to see him _any_ night.

Enjolras knew he was being ridiculous, probably Grantaire had just stepped away from his phone, but these nagging little doubts had gotten louder and louder the past couple weeks, all of a sudden flooding Enjolras with uncertainty.

As accidental as it had begun Enjolras was getting attached, he brought home with him a flannel, left there a t-shirt, sat with an arm looped around his shoulders at the Musain, slept on one side of the bed even when hope alone.  He was growing more and more comfortable with the idea of being _with_ Grantaire.  And it terrified him.

He would be hard-pressed to admit it but mornings spent with Grantaire were his favorites.  He felt looser, more relaxed after leaving there, and irritated those mornings he woke up without Grantaire curled against him.  But he had noticed more and more how Grantaire was very careful to remain aloof - rarely the one to text first, never coming to Enjolras' apartment - always warm but somehow distant.

_**From: R [sent 9:44 am]: If you ever make it out of there, then sure** :)_

Enjolras really didn't know what to make of the smiley face.  Was it a passive aggressive attempt to assure him it was alright?  Did Grantaire really not want him over?  After all, he had taken so long to reply.  Or was he  _actually_ looking forward to it?

Enjolras spent the rest of the wait debating between the admittedly limited possibilities and whether or not he was being ridiculous (he absolutely was, and objectively he knew this, but it did nothing to stop the carousel ride of paranoid over-analysis).

Finally they were boarding and Enjolras sent out a final text to let Grantaire know.  It would be late, Grantaire would probably want to sleep, he could see him the next day.  He shut his phone off immediately after, missing the reply.

_**From: R [sent 10:28 am]: That's alright, I'll be up - come** **by.** _

\---

Grantaire is pacing, compulsively moving from bedroom to couch to kitchen table, laptop in hand as he desperately tries not to harass Enjolras via text message.

He had never replied to Grantaire's open invitation.  Probably, like the anal-retentive, rule-following, goody-goody he was turned his phone off the minute he set foot on the plane and never saw it.

Except that by Grantaire's estimation he should have landed by now.

Still there was airport security.

Or Grantaire had been coming on too strong - it was the fucking smiley face, he knew it.

Either way, Enjolras wasn't going to come, he was sure of it.

Needing something to do, Grantaire moves to put away the take-out he had ordered.  He should have seen this coming, dialed it back a million and one notches.  Enjolras had wanted casual, _insisted_ on it, and Grantaire, pathetically, horsewhipped-in-love with him had agreed.

For the most part he thought he had done a pretty good job, he let Enjolras navigate the terms of the relationship, deciding just what he was comfortable with, never pushing him into something he wasn't ready for.

Really though, it was far too dangerous a game to play.  So many times Grantaire had been tempted to put an end to it because ultimately he would always, _always_ want more than Enjolras was prepared to give.  And knowing that made him feel gross, uncomfortable in his own skin and disgusted with the entire arrangement.

It's just as he's considering that thought that his phone goes off.

 _ **From: Apollo [sent 8:17 pm]: In a cab now, I'll come over once I drop off my**_ _**stuff.  
**_

It's another hour before Grantaire opens the door, grinning broadly.  "You made it!"

One half of Enjolras' face struggles valiantly to arrange itself in some semblance of a smile but exhaustion wins out and instead he shuffles forward to wrap his arms around Grantaire's waist and bury his face his his shoulder.

"There's food in the fridge, if you're hungry," Grantaire offers, letting go of the door to hug him back, "Thai, I wasn't sure if you were coming but I got extra spring rolls and a thing of beef and peppers just in case."

Enjolras looks up at him with a happy, dazed expression that borders on comical, "You didn't have to - "

Even as he says it he's moving away from Grantaire and towards the fridge.  Grantaire follows, chuckling, "I figured six-hour-flight, all day in an airport - "

"I could kiss you right now," Enjolras offers around a mouthful of spring roll as he makes a plate for himself.  Grantaire laughs and watches him eat, asking questions about L.A., telling him about Bahorel's latest brawl and Combeferre's newest idea.  It's the most relaxed they've been around each other in weeks.

\---

After the dishes are done and the food put away for the second time, Enjolras leads them into Grantaire's room, collapsing on the bed and pulling Grantaire on top of him.

It takes some cajoling but Grantaire manages to get him to stand up and change out of his jeans and into some pajamas.  He sprawls back across the bed, limbs everywhere and head pillowed on Grantaire's chest.  Their breathing evens and their fingers lace together.

Enjolras may want casual but for now Grantaire just wants to be honest and the cacophony of feeling rattling around and pressing out against his chest is too much.  It may be selfish of him but Enjolras is a sleep and so he allows himself a small confession: "I missed you."

It's only a fraction of what he's feeling, but it's enough to settle his stomach and mind for now.

Except then Enjolras is sitting up, propped up on elbows and turning to face him, "You did?"

The happy surprise on his face lights up the room and adds the sensation of something breaking to the mix.  "Of _course_ ," he insists, sitting up to cup Enjolras' face, "Of course I did."

Enjolras closes his eyes and leans into the touch, "I really missed you."

He presses a small kiss to Grantaire's palm and stretches back out.  They're still far from where wither wants to be but in the morning they're serene and slowly, Grantaire thinks, he'll start to unspool the tangled truths he's kept hidden from him.

But before they can begin, Enjolras is awake and pulling him from the bed, demanding coffee of all things.


End file.
